


Arrows

by fadedink



Series: Days of Christmas - 2011 [14]
Category: King Arthur
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedink/pseuds/fadedink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Tristan, only the first lesson is free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrows

**Author's Note:**

> The 'fourteenth day of Christmas' for [](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/profile)[**azewewish**](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/), because she's got mad love for Tristan, too. :)

"You're too tense."

Gawain lets his arm relax, eases the tension on the bow string as he turns. "What?"

"You're too tense," Tristan repeats. He takes another bite from the apple in his hand and seems in no hurry to move from his slouch against the fence. "You have to breathe."

"I was."

One eyebrow arches, and the apple crunches under Tristan's teeth. "Your elbow wasn't high enough, either. Keep it low like you had it, and you'll miss the mark every time."

Dumbfounded, Gawain just stares. He can't remember the last time he's heard Tristan string together that many words at one time. Then he frowns a little. "Are you telling me I'm doing it wrong?"

"No, just pointing out a few ways to improve."

"So you're saying I'm not good enough," Gawain says, when what he wants to say is _not as good as you_.

"Oh, you're good enough," Tristan replies, then cracks a smile. "If the Woads are willing to stand still in a big group. I'm sure you'll hit something."

"You bastard..."

"Here," Tristan says, ignoring the insult as he straightens and crosses to stand behind Gawain. "Nock your arrow."

With a dark look for Tristan, Gawain does as he's told. His spine stiffens when Tristan steps up behind him, body pressed against Gawain's back in one long line of heat. When Tristan touches his arm, nudging his elbow higher, Gawain bites his tongue.

"Breathe," Tristan murmurs, breath stirring the curls against the back of Gawain's neck. "Easy, now...release."

The arrow flies true, hitting the target with a solid _thunk_ , and Gawain can practically feel Tristan's smile of approval.

"Again," Tristan whispers, not moving, and Gawain swears he can feel Tristan's lips on his skin. But he goes through the motions, the release smoother this time.

"Thank you for the _lesson_ ," Gawain says through clenched teeth, disappointed when he feels Tristan step away, taking all that wonderful heat with him.

"Only the first one's free," Tristan throws over his shoulder. His grin tugs at something low inside Gawain, and all he can do is stare. "It's up to you to decide what the next one is worth."

Gawain tries to figure that out, pondering the meaning -- both explicit and implicit -- of Tristan's words. Then a wave of calm washes over him, and Gawain gathers his things before following in Tristan's footsteps.


End file.
